


The Dark Age

by rippergiles



Series: Our Time [8]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Episode Related, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 08:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 10,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16889466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rippergiles/pseuds/rippergiles
Summary: 1997. He'd known it wasn't over.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The episode “The Dark Age” was written by Rob Des Hotel and Dean Batali. This section is primarily based on scenes from that episode in a narrative format, in an attempt to tell Rupert and Ethan’s whole story.

_I was the match and you were the rock_  
_Maybe we started this fire?  
We sat apart and watched  
All we had burned on the pyre  
You said, "We were born with nothing  
And we sure as hell have nothing now."  
_**-Things We Lost in the Fire, Bastille** _  
__  
  
  
  
  
  
  __Ethan laid unconscious while the others surrounded him, grasping hands and beginning to chant. Ripper’s body lit up with energy as he willed his magic into the center of the circle to complete the conjuring. Their voices fell as Ethan’s body sat up, staring at each of them in turn._ _  
_ _  
_ _“Diedre…” he purred, “How nice to finally have a woman in these little trysts. I’m sure you will make a nice change for the men as well...they’re not always enthusiastic to worship me in the ways I require.”  
_ _  
_ _Diedre looked toward the others, confused, as Randall and Philip shifted uncomfortably. Her gaze hardened on Thomas, but his expression betrayed nothing.  
_ _  
_ _“Philip,” Eyghon made Ethan’s voice jagged and harsh. “You will be letting me in this time, won’t you? I have no space for cowards in my ranks.”  
_ _  
_ _Philip’s eyes went wide as he began to sputter. “Of course, your most ancient, your most powerful Eyghon-”  
_ _  
_ _“Ahhh,” Eyghon crowed, interrupting Philip, a wicked grin forming on Ethan’s face as he shifted his attentions. “Rupert. But of course you don’t go by that anymore, do you?”_ __  


_Ethan’s body slunk forward on all fours, like a jungle cat unconcerned with its prey escaping. “I know who you are,” it taunted as it was inches from Ripper’s face. His heart stuttered, the thought of being with a possessed Ethan terrifying but still highly alluring.  
_ _  
_ _It leaned in to Ripper’s ear, nipping it sharply before whispering, “And I know what you’re running from.”_  
  
  
         Giles woke with a start, laying in still silence for a moment before realising where he was. He fumbled on his bedside table for his glasses, then switched on a lamp. He hadn’t dreamt of them in years...the nightmares post-Eyghon were relentless for a while, but eventually enough time and distance had allowed him to compartmentalise those memories. They might have been easier to escape if he’d performed dream or memory charms, but after Randall...Rupert hadn’t trusted himself with magic for a long time after that. Yet now he could still feel the power under his skin, as he had in the dream. He realised, too, his pyjama pants also felt tighter than was strictly comfortable.  
  
         “Oh, Christ,” Rupert sighed. Of course, he thought. His run-in with Ethan was two weeks ago, and now he was back in his dreams, making things wholly more complicated. He swung his legs out of bed, massaging the bridge of his nose and stubbornly ignoring the inconvenience between his legs.


	2. Chapter 2

          _Ethan had finished his own tattoo and moved on to Ripper, which was proving to be a considerably easier task with the use of both hands. Ripper didn’t flinch when the needle began to vibrate against his skin; on the contrary, Ethan thought he might even be enjoying the pain. As he traced the curves of the mark against the inside of Rupert’s arm, he gripped his bicep for leverage, chuckling when he felt the muscle tense under his fingers._  
  
_“Yes, yes, very impressive. Don’t flex, you’ll mess up the design.”_  
  
_Ripper huffed. “I wasn’t flexing.”_  
  
_“Of course not,” Ethan agreed, trying to contain an eyeroll. “Hold still, I’m almost done.”_  
  
_The jet black ink had taken shape under the skin. Ethan grabbed the towel beside him and used it to wipe off the excess ink and droplets of blood welling to the surface. He held his own arm next to Ripper’s, comparing their marks. The swelling on his own had begun to recede, while Ripper’s was still very red and puffy, but otherwise they were nearly identical. It didn’t take much for Ethan to be impressed with himself, but he thought it was definitely warranted this time._  
  
_Ethan looked up at Ripper with a suggestive smirk. “Now what?”_  
  
_“Now we’re ready for him to take us.”_   
  
  
  
       He sat up in bed, half expecting Ripper to be next to him. Glancing around the motel room, reality sank in- that what Ethan had just re-lived had been more than twenty years ago, and that he would be delusional if he expected to ever sleep next to Rupert again.       
  
       Ethan got out of bed and walked to the window, shivering despite his sleepwear. Pulling back the curtain, he looked out into the mostly empty parking lot, the glow of the VACANCY sign casting a weak red hue over everything but providing little illumination. He recalled the tattoos that had followed his and Ripper’s- Randall, Thomas, Dee, and Philip joining them one by one. This was the first time he’d thought of the others in ages. Based on the clock on the bedside table, Ethan reasoned that it was midmorning in the UK, a perfectly acceptable time to check in with his old friends. Just in case.      


	3. Chapter 3

  
        Rupert had been out-of-sorts since waking from the dream, and he didn’t like it. Walking through his morning in a haze, he was grateful to get a report of a blood delivery to the hospital just to have something else to focus on. He passed on the information to Buffy when he found her, Willow, and Xander at their lockers.

         “Just don’t be late,” he told Buffy with a stern look.   
  
         Buffy pouted. “Giles, have I ever let you down?”  
  
         “Do you want me to answer that, or shall I just glare?” Giles snapped, coming off far harsher than intended. Buffy had her challenges with discipline, but any sixteen-year-old constantly responsible for defending the world didn’t need more weight added to her shoulders. He clearly needed a better night’s rest tonight. He opened his mouth to apologise. “I-”

         “Mornin’, England.”  
  
          He turned to see Jenny Calendar approaching, and felt his spirits lift. “Hello, Ms.--Jenny,” he faltered.  
  
         Jenny took a few minutes to clarify plans with Willow and Xander for a remedial computer course, but Rupert was only half listening. He watched Jenny’s raised eyebrows, her smirk while she talked to the students. He wouldn’t ogle her body, especially in the halls of a high school, but he was nonetheless glad for a pleasant distraction from the mess his mind had been today.   
  
         Jenny turned back to him. “Walk me to class?” she asked with a smile.  
  
         “My pleasure.”  
  
         They walked a few paces in silence. Rupert still didn’t quite know what to make of Ms. Calendar. Their time working together seemed to primarily consist of her teasing him for being old-fashioned, as he stubbornly refused to accept that a machine could replace his collection of books dating back several centuries. Her identity as a techno-pagan had thrown him for a loop, though he had to admit it was easier not having to explain the basics of the supernatural world to a new romantic interest. Of course he would have to be daft to ignore that they were attracted to each other, but every time he thought they might be taking action on that, some other supernatural crisis had taken their attention. Hazards of living on a Hellmouth, he supposed. He had to admit the monster truck rally Jenny had taken him to had been even less appealing than the football game, and he hadn’t terribly minded when Buffy interrupted it. He wondered if a night with some wine and a movie was out of the question.  
  
         “Thank you so much for loaning me the Forrester book,” Jenny said, bringing Rupert back to the present. “It's wonderful.”  
  
         “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”  
  
         “It’s so romantic, so evocative,” she grinned slyly, and Rupert felt a slight blush rising up his neck. If he was being honest, that had rather been the point of loaning her the book.  
  
         “You know how you have to dog-ear your favorite pages so you can go back to them?”

         That snapped Rupert unpleasantly out of romance territory as they reached Ms. Calendar’s classroom door. “You have to what?” he asked quickly.

         “Well, I practically folded back every page. So I underlined the passages I really wanted to discuss.”

         He tried to swallow a nauseous feeling as he whispered “Underlined?”

         “But then I spilled coffee on it and I couldn't even read it,” Jenny continued nonchalantly, with only a hint on inconvenience in her voice, compared to the full panic that had now settled in Rupert’s chest.

         “Coffee. On the first edition,” he wheezed, staring into space.

         Jenny smiled, unable to help herself. “I'm lying, Rupert. The book's fine.” She pulled the intact volume seemingly from thin air, and he felt a wave of relief. “I just love to see you squirm.”  
  
         He was rather irritated, not at Jenny, but at himself for being so easily played. “Well, I trust I gave good...squirm,” he said, wincing at the disastrous sentence.  
  
         Jenny looked up at him, resting on the door frame. “Did anyone ever tell you you're kind of a fuddy duddy?”  
  
         He sighed, thinking back to his dream that morning, realising there had once been a time when he hadn’t been. “No one ever seems to tell me anything else.”  
  
         Jenny’s eyes twinkled as her hand found itself on his chest. “Did anyone ever tell you you're kind of a sexy fuddy duddy?”  
  
         He smiled. Perhaps his days of fun weren’t entirely behind him. He tried to channel the boost of confidence as he said “No, that part usually gets left out. I can’t imagine why.”  
  
         “This weekend-” Jenny began, but Rupert jumped at his chance.  
  
         “Would you like to go out?” he asked breathlessly.  
  
         That wide-eyed, faux innocent smirk again. “Actually, I think I’d like to stay in.”  
  
         Nerves stirred in his stomach as he considered the implications of her suggestion. Rupert moved in slowly, Jenny closing the gap between their lips. He heard the school bell ringing and students beginning to swarm into the hallway, but the sounds were distant compared to the thunder of his heartbeat. 


	4. Chapter 4

        Ethan sat in the corner of the cafe, absentmindedly stirring his tea. When he’d woken up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and with an uneasy feeling in his stomach, he’d immediately pulled out his address book and tried to call the others. They hadn’t spoken in years, not really, but Ethan had tried to keep current contact information for most of the old gang for an eventuality such as this.   
  
        He still wasn’t exactly sure what “this” was. He’d tried to convince himself it was only a dream, spurred on by his less-than-ideal reunion with Rupert a fortnight ago. After being unable to reach Thomas or Diedre, his discomfort deepened, and he was more relieved than he wanted to admit when he finally heard Philip on the other end of the line. That comfort was short-lived when he heard Philip’s frantic ravings begin. Philip had been having the same dreams, and was in fact already on his way to California to find Rupert. Ethan had asked that they meet in this cafe the next day, let Philip brief him on what Rupert thought about the whole thing without having to face Rupert himself. Looking at his watch, he confirmed that Philip was over an hour late, and Ethan’s tea was cold.    



	5. Chapter 5

        By the end of the school day, Rupert felt as though his kiss with Jenny might have been weeks ago. Uniformed police officers in his library- his first reaction was panic, thinking something had happened to Buffy. That feeling settled into unease as they explained the circumstances of a dead body being found with his name attached. Now, standing in the morgue, staring down at Phillip’s body, he was full of the deepest dread.   
  
        Phillip was a bit stockier than he had been when Rupert had last seen him (who among them wasn’t?), and his head was balding, but it was unmistakably his old friend. His mind was racing. The timing of all this was too much for him to continue pretending it was coincidence...Ethan turning up for the first time in 20 years, dreaming about the Eyghon ritual, now Phillip, here, dead.   
  
         _He worshipped you, once_.  
  
        He couldn’t help but fixate on the tattoo that decorated Phillip’s pale arm. Giles had tried to ignore his own matching mark for years, and his habit of wearing layers even in the California sun made that pretty simple. But there was no way to ignore the dark ink against the lifeless flesh in front of him. He hoped he was projecting the frozen look of terror on Phillip’s face. The knot in his stomach suggested he wasn’t. 


	6. Chapter 6

       Morgues weren’t exactly known for being lively places, but the utter silence and lack of any attendants or hospital employees made Ethan cautious as he opened the swinging door to the examination room. After giving up and leaving the cafe, Ethan had returned to his motel, stopping to ask the front desk clerk if a Philip Henry was staying here as well. He really should have started there, in retrospect, considering how few places there were to stay in Sunnydale, but he had assumed Philip would show up where they had agreed. The clerk confirmed, giving Ethan a room number after he persuaded her by sliding a bill across the counter. He’d found the room and pounded on the door, then said sod it and used magic to break in. There was a small suitcase on the floor, but the room looked otherwise untouched-- Philip hadn’t slept here last night. The skin on Ethan’s neck gave way to gooseflesh, thinking again of his Eyghon-tinted dream. As much as he hated to admit it, the hospital morgue had been the next logical place to check.

       So here he was, creeping through the silent ward. Coming up to the wall of cold lockers, he began scanning the tag affixed to the front of each one. He let out a sigh of resignation when he read the name Philip Henry. The tag informed that the body had been received early this morning, which meant, if Philip hadn’t stayed in his hotel room, he had probably died the previous night and not been found for some time. He had informed Ethan he was going to see Rupert at his school first thing after arriving, so that would have been yesterday evening. Ethan wondered if Philip had reached Rupert before meeting his demise, or if Rupert was still blissfully oblivious to the whole situation.  
  
        He ran his thumb over the handle to the drawer, wondering if it would be wise to see Philip like this, after so many years without contact. As a general rule, Ethan didn’t feel guilty. But as he remembered when and Ripper had met Philip, his youthful innocence and eagerness not yet corrupted, Ethan felt he owed it to him to witness what had happened. He pushed in the latch and pulled the drawer open.  
  
        He frowned. The body was laying at an odd angle, as if it had been stuffed in haphazardly rather than laid flat. It was clothed, not nude as he had assumed was the norm for examination rooms. The top half was covered with a rumpled sheet, but Ethan could see a hospital ID on the body’s belt loop, showing a name and face Ethan had never seen before. He slowly grasped the sheet and pulled it down, revealing a corpse that was decidedly not Philip.  
  
        Ripper had been right, then, he realised with a wave of nausea as he backed away, leaving the drawer open for someone else to find the unlucky mortician. Their defeat and escape from Eyghon had been temporary, and now it was cashing in their debts. He thought again, with increasing anxiety, of Thomas and Diedre’s unanswered phones. If the demon had found them first...he was one of only two of their gang left. _That’s assuming it hasn’t already found him_ , Ethan’s brain supplied, making him feel faint.   
  
        He steadied himself as he realised what he had to do. As difficult as it would be (and possibly painful, if their last meeting was anything to go by), it was time to track down Rupert. 


	7. Chapter 7

         Rupert rubbed his eyes and used his shoulder to hold his phone receiver as he refilled his glass with scotch. He hadn’t drank like this in decades, but the harsh reminder of Randall and Eyghon, the horrible reality that the sight of Philip’s body had sent into his core was already bringing out the worst of him. He’d been on the phone for hours to England, tracking down people he hadn’t heard from in decades. All he’d gotten from it was a growing headache and another troubling confirmation. Thomas was dead, being found just a few days before Phillip.  
  
         “Mr. Giles?” a voice came back to the line.  
  
         “Yes, I’m here.”  
  
         “I found a number for Ms. Page, but I tried to dial through and it’s a dead line. Can you think of anyone else to try?”  
  
         He sighed, frustrated. Minute by minute he was becoming more sure he wouldn’t reach Diedre. If Phillip had crossed the Atlantic to find him, surely everyone else had already been warned what was happening. But this was his fault...he had to be certain. “Are you certain she didn't leave a forwarding number? This is rather a matter of life and--”  
  
         Three knocks came from his front door, interrupting him.  
  
         “Could you pardon me for a moment?” he asked, “And maybe look for a next of kin, if you can?”  
  
         Getting confirmation, he set the receiver on his desk and went to the door. Buffy was on his doorstep, looking put out.  
  
         “Buffy, it’s late, are you all right?”  
  
         “I was going to ask you the same thing,” she replied, a hint of snark largely covered by genuine concern.  
  
         Giles had already decided not to enlist Buffy or the others for help with this. It was his mess, and letting them try to help would only put more people in danger. So he put on what he hoped was a convincing face and responded “Yes, fine. I’m afraid I’m rather busy.” He started to close the door, saying “I’ll see you Monday--”  
  
         Buffy blocked it from closing, indignant. “Giles, did you forget about the hospital?”  
  
         It took him a moment to remember their appointment. “Oh! Are you all right, were you hurt?”  
  
         “No,” she said, brow furrowed, “I mean, my feelings a little…What’s wrong?”  
  
         As if he didn’t have enough guilt right now. Buffy would have to be dealt with later.  
  
         “Nothing. Nothing's wrong,” he lied. “I'm in the middle of an extremely important matter and I'm sorry but I'm just going to have to say good night now,” Giles rushed through in one breath, closing the door before Buffy could respond.  
  
         Deflated, he walked back to his desk and picked up the phone.  
  
         “Hello, are you still there? Her sister? Yes, please connect me. Thank you for your help.”  
  
         He heard the clicks of transferring the call, then ringing. He ran his fingers through his hair for what felt like the hundredth time in the last hour. _At this rate, I’ll be balder than Philip,_ he thought irritably.  
  
         “Racquel Page,” a gravelly female voice answered.  
  
          Rupert launched into his now well-rehearsed pitch. “I'm sorry to disturb you, I realise it's five in the morning there but I'm trying to reach Diedre. My name is Rupert Giles, she knows me, it's very important…”  
  
         A beat of silence. “I’m sorry, Mr. Giles, my sister passed away unexpectedly three days ago.”  
  
         Rupert thought for a moment at the absurdity of a grieving family member apologising to him. He’d been expecting it, but the news still felt like a carpet was being pulled from underneath him. Rupert offered his condolences and got off the phone as quickly as he could without being rude. He slumped down in his chair, then pulled out a dwindling list of what were once his closest friends. He crossed out Diedre’s name with a stab of pain. A deep sort of ache, not tinged with bitterness like the feelings he had toward Ethan. She had been the bubbly, excitable one, always dragging the others to wild parties or concerts. Rupert smiled in spite of himself. She was attractive, and had even flirted with him on the night they’d met, but as soon as she’d met Thomas, she was blind to everyone else. Dee’s free spirit and Thomas’ stoic demeanor combined had made them both far more tolerable to spend time with. Now they were all gone.  
  
        He glanced back at the list, though he certainly didn’t need a reminder of who was left. He frowned, wondering where Ethan had gone when Rupert told him to leave town. As fraught as their relationship was, he wasn’t sure he could handle being responsible for Ethan’s death.


	8. Chapter 8

        Ethan silently prowled through the stacks, more out of the force of habit than necessity. It was a Saturday, when no one should be in the high school library. He glanced at the titles on several musty tomes as he passed them. _Daemons Most Olde_ , _Spells of Healing & Harm_, _Vampyr Lore_ … what was Ripper playing at, keeping these in a school? The shelves had some form of chaotic organization...books were stacked in different directions and on top of each other, but they all seemed to be exactly where they were intended. _Typical Rupert_ , Ethan thought, _rebelling in the most boring possible ways_. He’d already broken into and rifled through Rupert’s office, finding nothing particularly useful. He’d pocketed a note he found in a desk drawer from someone called Jenny, who came off too friendly for Ethan’s liking. He would investigate her later.  
  
         Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of blonde hair through a gap in the books. Its owner turned and met his eyes a moment later. Thinking only of escape, Ethan pushed the shelf onto her, his momentary lead giving him the advantage. He scrambled over the fallen shelf and ran back toward the stairs and the front of the library. He heard a thud behind him, then suddenly he was being spun around.  
  
         He recognised the girl the moment before she barked accusingly, “I know you! You ran that costume shop!”  
  
          _One of my more inventive concoctions,_ Ethan thought with a grin. “I’m pleased you remember.”  
  
         Her face hardened. “You sold me that dress and nearly got us all killed.”  
  
         Ethan turned his simpering smile on her. “But you looked great.”  
  
         Pain radiated from his jaw as the girl gave him a mean right hook. Where does a petite teenager learn to punch like that?  
  
         “So now we’re even?” Ethan asked, rubbing the side of his face without much hope.  
  
         “I’ll let you know when we’re even,” she warned, with a few threats for good measure. “What are you doing here?”

         “Snooping around,” he said simply.  
  
         The girl had the kindness to feign being impressed. “Honesty. Nice touch.”  
  
         “It’s one of my virtues,” Ethan told her, then reconsidered. “Not really.”  
  
         “Why don’t I just call the police?” she asked, keeping a firm grip on him as she steered them toward the stairs.

         “Yes, the police…” Ethan began. He weighed his options then decided to lay his cards on the table. “They’ll have so many questions...and they’ll really want Rupert to answer them all.”  
  
         The girl blinked. “You know Giles?”  
  
          _Know him? Got my arse kicked by him last week, got my arse buggered by him far before that._

         “We go back. Way back.”


	9. Chapter 9

        _Randall was screaming in agony, his face contorting and bubbling. The circle broken, Thomas and Philip were backing away quickly. Diedre huddled in the corner, trying not to look at the horror unfolding. Ethan grabbed the spellbook and desperately flipped pages, looking for something to contain what they’d unleashed. Ripper was the only one who forced himself to keep staring at what Randall had become._  
  
_He started chanting. “Exorcizamus te, omnis immunde spiritus-”_  
  
_Randall’s neck lurched too far backwards, and they all heard a sickening crack. His body stopped convulsing, then his face snapped horribly forward and fixated on Ripper. It was pockmarked with deep holes, and Randall’s eyes had been replaced by an eerie blue glow. His grin was unnaturally wide as he leered at them._  
  
_Diedre screamed. “It’s not working!”_  
  
_“Maybe because Eyghon isn’t a bloody Catholic!” Ethan snapped, still flipping the pages uselessly. “Etruscan, remember?”_  
  
_“No,” Ripper corrected. “We discovered him in old Etruscan writing, but he's far older. And I've tried every other rite of exorcism I'm aware of, but he’s just getting worse.” Ripper looked at Ethan miserably.  “I don't know what to do…”_  
  
_“You all wanted me inside you,” Eyghon growled menacingly, “and this is what you shall have! What your entire world will have!”_  
  
_“He’s breaking free!” Diedre wailed, and she was correct. Jagged horns were erupting from Randall’s temples, splitting his skin and exposing flesh below._  
  
_“Ripper-” Ethan shouted, pointing in the book,  “the Pelleris spell!”_  
  
_Ripper gaped at him, horrified. “That's meant for objects, locations, not people! It could kill Randall!”_  
  
_Ethan threw up his arms. “If we don’t do something, we’re all dead!”_  
  
_Ripper paused, the weight of it settling on him. He would have to time this correctly if he had any chance of killing Eyghon. Killing Randall, he thought with a wave of nausea, then shoved it down. There was nothing else to be done._  
  
_“I'll speak the words of banishment,” he muttered to Ethan. “You do the cleansing ritual.”_  
_  
“Fools!” Eyghon screeched. “You can never be free of me. You've put my mark upon you. You belong to me!”_

 

  
  
        The shrill ring of the telephone woke him up in a panic. Rupert groped for the receiver on his desk, where he’d fallen asleep. The bottle of scotch he’d pulled down last night sat empty beside the phone.  
  
        “Hello?” he rasped, head pounding.  
  
        Buffy’s voice came through from the other end. “Giles, it’s me.”  
  
        He groaned, trying to stretch out a kink in his neck and wondering how late he’d slept. “Buffy, unless this is an emergency, I’ll see you in school on Mon-”  
  
        “What’s the mark of Eyghon?” Her voice was uncertain, lacking her usual confidence. His stomach dropped as Giles found himself unable to come up with what to tell her.  
  
        “Giles?”  
  
        He remained silent, straining to hear what sounded like a male voice with her. It didn’t sound like Xander.  
  
        Buffy sighed, growing impatient. “I’m in your office with someone who claims to be an old friend of yours. Ethan Rayne.”  
  
        “He’s there with you?” Giles asked sharply, breaking his silence. Conflicting emotions rose in him- he was glad Ethan was alive, but after the Halloween stunt, he didn’t trust him around Buffy. Even Slayer strength could be challenged if Ethan was determined to use chaos magic. “Buffy, listen to me. You're in great danger with Ethan there. I want you to put down the phone and get out of the library as quickly as possible.”  
  
        She shot back, indignant. “I'm not going anywhere until you start giving me some answers-”  
  
        Suddenly, Giles heard a cacophony of crashing sounds, shattering glass, and shouting as Buffy dropped the phone. Terror flooded his veins as he dropped the phone and ran out the door, determined to reach Buffy in time.


	10. Chapter 10

       Ethan crouched behind the Slayer (for Ethan knew now that’s what she must be), peering around her to see Philip, upright and looking unpleasantly green. Though he hadn’t seen it done in decades, and never with an actual corpse, he recognised the glowing eyes, the last confirmation that Eyghon was running the show. As the girl kicked Philip in the chest, pushing him back toward a caged-off area of the library, Ethan saw his chance and bolted, vaulting over the counter and running out of the library. He found a group of people in his way, two of which were vaguely familiar- the redheaded girl he had seen with Rupert on Halloween, and a boy who had been a customer at his shop.  
  
       The boy lunged at him, causing a small wrestling match as Ethan scrambled toward the doors. Once he was free of the young man’s grip and nearly through the doors, a peppy brunette appeared in front of him and brought her foot down hard on his kneecap, sending him to the ground in pain.  
  
        The Slayer reappeared, grabbing his arm and pulling him upright, then dragged him to a chair and shoved him into it. The others crept closer to the cage to eye Philip, or rather, what had been Philip. Ethan watched them. He suspected they were all students except one who looked a bit older, a pretty woman with a bob of dark hair. Furrowing his brow, he pushed his energy toward her, feeling out her aura. There was a sense of magic there, not intense like his own or Ripper’s, but a softer, warm tingle. She wasn’t dressed nearly prudishly enough to be from the Watchers Council. So who was she?  
  
        “I'm not getting close enough to feel his pulse,” the redhead said nervously, shaking him from his thoughts. “But I've gotta say he looks pretty dead.”  
  
       The boy shrugged. “Except for the walking around and attacking Buffy part.”  
  
       “He’s dead,” Ethan confirmed, sighing as he looked at the feral creature he’d once broken out of a cell similar to what he was in now. “I’m sorry, Philip. Really I am.”  
  
       “You know him?” Buffy asked.  
  
       “Knew him.”  
  
       The doors flew open to reveal Rupert, in a state nearly as bad as what he’d looked like after Randall’s death. His shirt was untucked, his face unshaven and his hair mussed as he stumbled toward them.  
  
       “Is everyone all right?” he asked, his eyes wild as he looked from his Slayer to the dark-haired woman. He seemed to pass over Ethan.  
  
       “Super,” the brunette student announced excitedly as she gestured toward Ethan.  “I kicked a guy!”  
  
       “We’re okay,” the woman said quietly. Ethan noticed with a touch of irritation how Rupert’s gaze lingered on her.  
  
       “Dead guy there interrupted our tutorial,” the male student interjected, with a frivolity that impressed even Ethan, in the circumstances. The boy turned to Philip. “Been meaning to thank you for that.”  
  
       Eyghon’s vessel growled loudly in response, causing all of the students to jump back. Rupert approached the cage, horror dawning on his face as he recognised Philip.  
  
       “It...can’t be,” he whispered.  
  
       “Oh yes, it can,” Ethan piped up, smiling as Rupert turned to face him. “Hello, Ripper.”  
  
       Anger was coming off Rupert in waves. “I thought I told you to leave town.”  
  
       “You did,” Ethan replied, raising his eyebrows. “I didn’t. Shop’s lease is paid through the end of the month.”  
  
        Then Rupert was on him, grabbing him forcefully by the scruff of his neck and pulling him within inches of his face. Ethan’s scalp tingled where Rupert’s fingers dug into it. The magic was still contained, but the barriers seemed to be crumbling in Rupert’s unhinged state. Getting his hair pulled wasn’t exactly Ethan’s idea of a bad time, and the man opposite him knew it. Ethan smirked, enjoying the rise he was getting out of him. He let his eyes travel to Rupert’s lips, smelling the alcohol on his breath. Despite the audience, he almost expected Ripper to surface, crushing his lips against Ethan’s. Green eyes bored into his own.  
  
         “You should have left when I told you!” Rupert said with a forceful grip, sending more sparks down Ethan’s spine. “You’ve put these people in danger, people I care about.”  
  
         “If you care about them so much,” Ethan sneered, “why didn’t _you_ leave town? I know you’ve been having the dreams too. We both know what’s coming.”  
  
         Buffy moved beside them, and Ethan could feel her staring. He was sure the others were as well, but Ethan was determined to maintain eye contact with Rupert. Maybe he would realise they were on the same side in this.  
  
        “What dreams?” she asked frantically. “What is going on?”  
  
        Rupert finally released him, looking uncertainly at his Slayer.  
  
        “Tell her, Ripper.”  
  
        Buffy prodded again. “Giles?”  
  
        They all jumped as the cage in the corner broke open, releasing Philip’s corpse to charge at them. Eyghon lifted the dark-haired woman and hurled her into a wall. She crumpled to the ground, unconscious.  
  
        Rupert ran toward her. “Jenny!”  
  
         _So that’s Jenny_ , Ethan barely had time to think as Buffy began to spar with Philip’s corpse again. He saw his chance and made a break for the exit, glancing back to see Rupert cradling Jenny in his arms.


	11. Chapter 11

       He helped Jenny slowly sink onto his couch. Philip’s body had rather conveniently but horrifically liquified into a fluorescent blue goo before Rupert had been able to rouse her. After that, Rupert had wasted little time in getting her out of the library, leaving a frustrated and confused Buffy in their wake. He had been short with Buffy, which was regrettable, but he had to prioritise Jenny right now, make sure she was okay. Besides, it bought him another night to figure out what to say to Buffy and the others. Rupert moved to the kitchen, shame and exhaustion like lead weights on his ankles. He hated that he’d been unable to fix this on his own, hated that Thomas and Dee and Philip and very nearly Jenny had been added to the list of victims of his youthful irresponsibility. The fact that Buffy and the others were involved now compounded his guilt- he was supposed to be looking out for her, not the other way around. His comeuppance had finally arrived.  
  
        Grabbing two glasses and filling them with ice, he moved back to the couch where Jenny was cradling her head. A new bottle of scotch was already waiting for them on the table. He didn’t have the energy to reflect on his alcohol consumption on top of everything else.  
  
        He handed Jenny the drink, watching as she sipped it then winced.  
  
        “It’s strong,” she said, then took another sip. “It’s helping.”  
  
        “You need it, after…” he struggled, “after what you’ve been through.”  
  
        She nodded silently, her beautiful dark eyes looking into his.  
  
        “Jenny, I’m so sorry. I never meant for you to get involved in any of this.”  
  
        She shrugged. “So I got involved. That’s what happens when two people...get involved.”  
  
        Had it been her who leaned in closer, or Rupert? He stared at her lips, desperately wanting something to focus on besides the nightmare his weekend had turned into. Miserably, he pulled himself away.  
  
        “I’ll have to get you home, soon,” he sighed as he stared at his lap. “It’s not- I’m not a safe person to be around, right now.”  
  
        Jenny looked at him, her expression searching him for answers. “Nothing’s safe in this world, Rupert. Don’t you know that by now?”  
  
         Against his better judgment, Rupert felt a little tension release from his shoulders.  
  
        “Maybe I should make us some tea, instead.”  
  
        “Suit yourself,” Jenny remarked, pulling her scotch back up to her lips with a smile.  
  
        Rupert pushed himself off the couch and forced himself into the kitchen, filling the kettle with water and turning on the stove. When the water began to boil, he added a teabag and picked up the kettle, grabbing a teacup each for himself and Jenny. He was reaching for the sugar when he heard something clatter on the other side of the bar window.  
  
        “What was that?” he asked as he emerged from the kitchen.  
  
        “What was what?” Jenny replied, raising her eyebrows. She was standing, which Rupert thought was probably a good sign of her strength returning.  
  
        “I thought I heard something.”  
  
        She shrugged. “I didn’t.” She thanked him as he handed her a cup of tea.  
  
        “Drink it, then I’ll take you home,” he promised.  
  
        She looked up at him, a twinkle in her eyes. “You could take me home…” she began as she sat her tea on the desk. “Or you could take advantage of me in my weakened state.”  
  
        Something stirred in Rupert’s gut, an urge to ignore everything else and give in to what she was suggesting. Jenny moved forward, wrapping her arms around his waist and digging fingernails into the small of his back. His breath hitched, but he forced himself to back out of her embrace.  
  
        “Jenny, I’m really very attracted to you--”  
  
        “Good,” she replied, smirking.  
  
        He raised his hand between them. “But this isn’t the right time.”  
  
        “Oh, there’s never been a better time,” she purred, grabbing his hand and forcing it down, then pushing him into his desk chair. And then she was on him, her flowery scent enveloping him as she straddled his lap, grinding into the growing presence in his trousers. His groan was cut off by Jenny capturing his mouth, forcing her tongue inside. He felt himself tugging at her sweater, then a wave of shame returned, bringing him back to the reality of everything that had happened in the last 24 hours. He broke away from her kiss, pulling her hands off of his chest and holding her away from him.  
  
        “No,” he urged, “it’s not right. I’d be taking advantage.”  
  
        She backed off, a rather unsettling smile taking over her soft features.  
  
        “God, you just don’t change, do you?” she sneered.  
  
        He looked at her, finding it difficult to breathe normally. “What?”  
  
        “It’s not right, it wouldn’t be  _proper_ ,” she continued contemptuously. “People might get _hurt_.”  
  
        Rupert backed away, his heart hammering. Jenny grabbed his wrists, pushing him back into the chair and holding him in place, suddenly impossibly strong. He looked up at her, confused and afraid.  
  
        “You’re like a woman, Ripper,” she mocked, the nickname confirming what he’d feared. This wasn’t Jenny. “You cry at every funeral. You never had the strength for me. You don’t _deserve_ me.”  
  
        “No,” he pled, knowing it would accomplish nothing but unable to do anything else. Eyghon-Jenny was on his lap again, inching closer to his face.  
  
        “But guess what? You’ve got me,” it said, Jenny’s soft voice turning into something harsh and horrifying, “ _under your skin!_ ”  
  
        Lips crushed against his mouth painfully. Rupert broke away, distraught to see Jenny’s forehead suddenly glistening with rotting pockmarks. Eyghon was breaking out. It would have to transfer to a new host soon, or its power would rip Jenny apart. It grabbed Rupert’s head and slammed him into the desk, causing his ears to ring as the pain burst into his skull. As he was then slung forcefully against the wall, an unpleasant THUNK from the back of his head nearly drowned out the sounds of his front door being broken down.  
  
        Buffy was in front of him, shielding him from Eyghon. “Back off.”  
  
        “Three down, two to go,” Eyghon chuckled horribly. “Be seeing you.”  
  
        It backed away then dove through his window, Rupert wincing as he wondered what the shattered glass had done to Jenny’s body. _Be seeing you,_ it had said mockingly, echoing the note Ethan had left for him. Had Eyghon been watching them all along, biding its time until it could return to claim them, one by one?  
  
        Buffy knelt down beside him. “Are you all right?”  
  
       “Jenny,” he whispered. “Oh, god.”  
  
       “Giles, how do I stop this thing?” Buffy persisted, shaking his shoulder.  
  
       He cried miserably. “God, what have I done?”  
  
       “Talk to me!” she shouted. “Giles, you’re scaring me.”  
  
       He finally turned to face her, the fear on his Slayer’s face widening the hole he felt he may be swallowed up by any instant.  
  
       “I’m sorry…” he whispered, tears threatening to fill his eyes.  
  
       “Don’t be sorry, be Giles!” she pled. “Come on, we fight monsters. They show up, they scare us, I beat them up, and they leave. This isn't any different.”  
  
       He closed his eyes. “It _is_ different.”  
  
       “Because you don’t know how to stop it?”  
  
       “Because I _created_ it!” he blurted loudly, causing Buffy to jump back.  
  
       “What do you mean?” she asked, a little more timid than a moment before.  
  
       He shook his head.

       “Giles, I need to know. We have to figure out how to defeat it and save Ms. Calendar.”  
  
       Buffy stood, grabbing his hands and pulling him upright. She let him lean on her as she guided him to the couch, then settled next to him.  
  
       “Spill,” she instructed sternly, leaving him no room to refuse.  
  
       “I was twenty-one,” he began, trying to steady his voice. “Studying history at Oxford, and the occult by night. I hated it. The boring grind of school, the pressure of my ‘destiny’. So I...dropped out,” he admitted, deciding to cut to the end result rather than get caught up in the pressures of the Watchers Council that led him to it. “I went to London, fell in with the worst crowd that would have me.” _They weren’t the worst crowd until you showed up,_ a voice in his head needled. He shook it off and continued. “We practiced magicks. Small stuff, for...pleasure, or gain. And then Ethan and I discovered something...bigger.”  
  
        “Eyghon,” Buffy supplied.  
  
        He nodded. It was extraordinarily difficult to relay these things to Buffy. Giles tried to keep the most inappropriate details from filling his mind as he relayed the story to her. “We put one of us into a deep sleep, and the others would summon him. It was an extraordinary high,” he said, a wry smile on his lips. “God, we were fools.”  
  
       “You couldn’t control it?”  
  
        He closed his eyes, knowing there was no escaping what came next. “One of us...Randall. He lost control. Eyghon took him whole.” He gulped, trying to breathe deeply but failing to achieve much more than a shudder. “We tried to exorcise the demon from Randall, but it killed him.” He looked Buffy in the eyes as he confided his lifelong regret. “ _We_ killed him.”  
  
      His gut twisted as she turned away, unable to look at him as she massaged the bridge of her nose. Part of him wished she would say something, but perhaps it was better to get everything out before he could stop himself.  
  
      “We thought we were free of the demon after that. But it’s back,” he growled, anger and anxiety filling his chest. “And one by one it will kill us all.”  
  
      Buffy looked up, then repeated Eyghon’s words. “Three down, two to go. Then it’s going after Ethan.”  
  
       Rupert had of course realised this, but given that Ethan had seen Philip before bolting out of the library, he thought Ethan probably had a decent head start. And he wasn’t helpless, though Rupert didn’t know how long he could hold Eyghon off if cornered.  
  
      Buffy stood up. “I better beat it there.”  
  
        “We’d better,” Giles corrected her, trying to stand himself but finding the ground spinning beneath him.  

        She looked at him, the pity in her eyes making him sick. “You’re barely mobile, and speed is of the serious essence.” Buffy stepped toward the door.  
  
        Rupert was unable to stop the fear bubbling up and making his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know how to stop it without killing Jenny.”  
  
        “I got the guys working on it,” she assured him, then sighed. “I'll try to contain it ‘til we can figure something.”  
  
        “Buffy--” he called out as she made to leave again. She stopped. “I’m sorry,” he sobbed, not just to her but to Jenny, to Philip, to Dee and Thomas, to Randall, whose death he’d carried for two decades, unable to ever face. He was even apologising to Ethan, for the danger headed his way. They’d found Eyghon together, summoned him side by side before the others joined in. Now, for the first time, Ethan might have to face the demon on his own.


	12. Chapter 12

       Ethan wasn’t sure how he continually found himself hiding in his own shop. Well, he supposed causing intentional mayhem on a Hellmouth didn’t help. He peered out from behind a set of mannequins as the Slayer entered his shop.  
  
        “I'm not here to hurt you... I'm sorry to say,” Buffy began, searching the room. “Giles told me everything.”  
  
        Ethan sincerely doubted that Rupert had even come close to telling her _everything_ , but held his tongue.  
  
        “It's coming for you. We've got to stop it.”  
  
      When her back was turned, Ethan slipped from behind the mannequin and snuck up on her, then silently removed the glamour keeping him hidden.  
  
      “And you came to protect me,” he said snarkily, amused when the Slayer spun around in alarm. “I'm touched.”  
  
      Buffy narrowed her eyes. “Don't worry, it's nothing personal. To protect Giles I have to protect you.”  
  
      The girl looked as though she’d rather kiss a poisonous toad than be tasked with his safety, and yet, here she was.  
  
      “How _does_ Ripper inspire such goodness?” Ethan remarked. But of course he knew. Once upon a time he would have done anything for Ripper. He still might, under the right circumstances.  
  
        “Because he’s Giles.”  
  
        Ethan raised his eyebrows, wondering again how Rupert went from despising everything about his family to going nearly exclusively by his family name.  
  
        “And I’m not. Still, lucky me.”  
  
        “Lucky you,” she deadpanned.  
  
        “Well, we can't run, Eyghon will find us,” Ethan began, shrugging. He rolled up his sleeve, revealing his tattoo. “This mark might as well be a homing beacon.”  
  
        “That’s all right,” she countered in a chipper tone. “I’m not big on running anyway.”  
  
        The girl had spunk, he’d give her that. “Aren’t we manly?”  
  
        “One of us is,” she gibed, giving Ethan a genuine chuckle. “You’re gonna hide ‘til it’s over.”  
  
        “Excellent plan.”  
  
        She moved to peer into the back room. “Is there a way in through the back?”  
  
        “There’s a door, but it’s locked. I think it’s solid,” he guessed hopefully.  
  
        “Well, we can set you up back there,” Buffy declared, searching the room for materials to reinforce what was to be their stronghold. “Come on.”  
  
        “Oh, no,” he said, doing his best impression of a charming smile as he gestured for Buffy to go ahead. She moved forward, and he reached for the detached leg of a mannequin nearby. Raising it above his head, he brought it down on the Slayer’s skull. She crumpled to the floor.  
  
        “Ladies first.”  
  
        He flung the leg away, bending down and grabbing the girl under her arms. He tried to be gentle as he dragged her to the back room- this was a matter of necessity, there was no reason to cause her undue harm.  
  
        Ethan hoisted the Slayer onto a table, reaching for lengths of rope he had prepared nearby. He bound her ankles together, then maneuvered her arms around the table and tied them together underneath it. He was grateful she had worn a tank top, that would make the process easier without having to cut away any extra layers of clothing. He brushed her blonde hair off her neck and moved back to his supplies. A large hollow needle sat next to a small pot of black ink. A poison-green bottle of acid leered at him from beside the ink. It wasn’t an ideal setup, but Ethan thought he could make it work. He dipped the needle in the ink, then noticed movement as Buffy began to stir. He supposed it would be easier to have her awake and restrained rather than for her to begin thrashing when the needle pierced her skin.  
  
        “Wakey, wakey. You’re missing all the fun.”  
  
        Buffy craned her neck toward him, blinking blearily. “What fun?”  
  
        Ethan thought back to doing this to Ripper, to Diedre and the others. A sense of nostalgia tinged the persistent feeling of dread. “Your initiation.”  
  
        “You know what?” Buffy grunted as she struggled to free herself. “I’m not really interested in joining your club.”

        “Too late. I already voted you in,” he said quickly. “You know, I hope you’re not taking this personally, Buffy. I actually kind of like you.”  
  
         She glared at him, her cheek crushed against the table.  
  
         “It’s just that I like myself a lot more,” he followed with a grin. “If you think of it karmically, this is really big for your soul, you know? Taking my place with the demon. Giving, so that others may live.”  
  
         Ethan thought if he could get the mark on the girl and direct Eyghon toward her, Rupert would have a better chance of hunkering down, of defending himself long enough to figure out how to defeat the demon. Ethan’s own skin being saved was also a considerable factor. Buffy could buy them both some time.  
  
         “I’m going to kill you,” Buffy told him, a false brightness in her voice. “Think that’ll blow the whole karma thing?”  
  
         “Sweet child,” he smirked. If the girl had been born twenty years earlier she could have easily ran with their gang. The strong moral fiber might have presented a challenge, but he and Ripper had overcome worse. He positioned the needle over her back.  
  
        “Now, this may sting a little.”


	13. Chapter 13

        Now that Rupert had his bearings a bit straighter, it was time to catch up to Buffy and Ethan. He liked their chances a lot more if all three of them were together when Eyghon showed up. Picking up his coat and keys, he--  
  
          _He felt the sting of the needle as Ethan began to mark his flesh._  
  
         Rupert slipped, collapsing to the ground. The vision wasn’t a nightmare, he was fully awake.  
  
          _Diedre, her face taken by Eyghon after she’d finally given in and joined them. The black ink stood out against her arm._  
  
        Struggling to stand up, he fell again as another vision took him, knocking the side of his head on his desk.  
  
_Philip in the morgue drawer, his tattoo the first thing Rupert saw, and the last thing he could forget._  
  
        He clutched his head, the pain was blinding--  
  
         _A dainty neck, wisps of blonde hair around Eyghon’s mark as she struggled against her bindings._  
  
        Buffy, he realised with a retch. “Oh, Ethan,” he moaned miserably. “No, no!”  
  
        Once the vision of her subsided, Rupert chanced standing up again. His feet seemed to hold him; the room seemed less wobbly. He opened the door and ran into the night, not bothering to close it behind him.


	14. Chapter 14

        Ethan wiped the back of Buffy’s neck, the moisture in the cloth making the ink reflect a shine in the dim room. Comparing his own mark to the one he’d just completed, he thought he still had a talent for it, even with limited tools.  
  
        “Perhaps I missed my calling as an artist.”  
  
        She leered up at him. “Listen to me, Ethan, this is a bad idea. You’re dealing with something very dangerous.”  
  
        “You’re not wrong,” Ethan granted her. “But this’ll throw Eyghon off my scent.” _And Ripper’s, if he doesn’t do anything stupid_.  
  
         He reached for the green glass bottle on the tray. Buffy flinched and began to struggle more fervently against her bonds.  
  
        “Relax, I'm finished with you,” he assured her with a smile. “This is for me…”  
  
        He rolled up his shirtsleeve and uncorked the bottle, gritting his teeth as he braced for the pain to come. He poured the acid onto his tattoo, hissing as the skin bubbled and melted away. He felt a twinge of something deeper as he realised he was ridding himself of the last physical evidence of his connection to Rupert. He didn't have a choice.  
  
        Once the offending mark was gone (along with the skin it once resided on), Ethan reached for bandaging and began to wrap his arm. Blood soaked through the first layer but he thought it would be decent enough until he could get out of harm’s way.  
  
         He turned back to Buffy on the table. “I hate to mutilate and run, but-”

         A chill went down his neck as an eerie light filled the window in the door. The door began to vibrate as he turned to face it, then opened seemingly of its own accord. He took a step backward as a small figure emerged from the light.

        It was that Jenny woman of Rupert’s, considerably less beautiful with Eyghon’s stretched features and rotting skin beginning to take over her image.

        “It is your time,” she growled, her voice low.  
  
        Ethan stood, frozen. Eyghon approached him slowly, the shorter woman’s eyes looking up into his as a bead of sweat formed on his temple. It sniffed the air, and Ethan tried not to flinch. The demon jerked its head toward Buffy. Suddenly he found himself being flung bodily into a glass display case, landing in a heap on the floor.  
  
        Looking up, he saw Buffy roll off the table, the ropes binding her now cut, just in time for Eyghon to miss pouncing on her and landing on the table instead. Silently he cheered her on, impressed by her escape maneuver. Sure, he had just put her in harm’s way, but he knew Slayers had codes of ethics that stopped them from killing humans. Eyghon had no such code, so Ethan would take the Slayer if given the choice.  
  
         The demon gripped the table it had fallen onto, shoving it into the Slayer’s midsection. It didn’t stop pushing, and soon Buffy was pinned against the wall in a position that looked none too comfortable from where Ethan sat. She struggled to push the table back, but Eyghon held fast. The Slayer was trapped.  
  
         Ethan moved to quietly get up while the demon’s attention was occupied, flinching when a familiar booming voice came from the doorway.  
  
         “EYGHON! Take me!”

         Ethan’s mouth dropped open at the heroic show from Rupert, the kind of profoundly stupid idea that would get them both killed just as they were both on the edge of escape.  
  
         Eyghon-Jenny thrust the table away from Buffy, which unfortunately meant it came straight toward Ethan. He could barely hear the Slayer’s coughing fit as he dove out of the way while the table shattered the glass case.  
  
         “Buffy, get out of here!” Rupert shouted, keeping his eyes on the demon. It moved toward him, but the Slayer was faster, jumping in front of her Watcher.

         “No!” she commanded the demon. Eyghon raised its hand, and without even striking Buffy, a surge of energy threw the blonde into the air and smacked her body against the far wall. Rupert took his eyes off of Jenny-Eyghon, straining to see if Buffy was moving where she had landed on the floor.

         Eyghon saw its chance. It shoved Rupert to the floor, pinning him down with Jenny’s thighs. Ordinarily the petite woman would have been like a paperweight to Ripper, but Ethan knew the demon inhabiting her body came with impossible strength in addition to the magics. Even now, he felt a little mournful for the times he had felt that strength in his own form.  
  
        “I've been waiting a long time to do this,” the demon told Rupert, leaning over him. Unbelievably, the man took a moment to look toward Ethan, his soft green eyes full of regret.  
  
        Ethan didn’t want to see this, but couldn’t look away. After everything, he needed to watch what seemed to be their final showdown against the horror they’d conjured decades previously. If either of them was to die today, let the other bear witness.


	15. Chapter 15

_         I am about to die, _ Rupert found himself thinking as the demon wearing Jenny’s face put more weight on his chest, making it increasingly difficult to breathe. And yet, he didn’t find himself surprised that it should end like this. He turned to look at Ethan, who was crouched to the ground, in a prime opportunity to make his exit, but not doing so. As he looked into Ethan’s eyes, he thought he saw alarm there, and even a bit of the resignation Rupert himself felt. Maybe Ethan knew as well as he did that every moment since they had given themselves to Eyghon was merely borrowed time.  
  
         As the demon’s fingers-  _ Jenny’s fingers _ \- closed around his throat, Rupert forced himself to look back into its garish face. He prayed to any entity that could hear him that Willow and the others had found a way to save her. She wouldn’t have long now- it had been a matter of hours between when Randall invited Eyghon in and when he had been consumed past the point of no return. The room began to darken as oxygen was cut off from his brain…  
  
        A sudden loud noise caused the demon to release him, though Rupert could barely see what had caused the interruption. Vague shapes ran through the open doorway into the shop as he gasped for breath. One of them tackled Jenny off of him and began to drag her form to a crate in the back of the room. Rupert blinked and allowed his vision to refocus in time to see Angel smash Eyghon into the crate, with too much force for Jenny not to have felt it where she was stowed away inside her mind. Rupert’s confusion turned to horror as the vampire began choking her. Defeating Eyghon wasn’t an option if this was the price.  
  
        He lunged toward them but was caught by a small set of arms around his chest. “He’s killing her!” he roared in Willow’s face as he tried to pull away. She dug her fingers in, a hard look of determination on her face as Rupert whimpered.  
  
        “Trust me,” the redhead urged, “this is gonna work!”  
  
        He felt weak as he saw Angel shaking Jenny’s body, the colour draining from what remained of her face. She began to fall, and Rupert felt as though he was falling too, barely held up by the petite girl next to him. Angel was slammed against the back wall as he began to convulse, but Rupert hardly noticed- Jenny’s face was her own again, battered and unconscious but undeniably Jenny. Willow’s arms released him and he dove toward the heap on the floor, gripping Jenny’s shoulders and shaking them, begging with tears in his eyes for her to be okay.


	16. Chapter 16

        Ethan looked on as Rupert slid on the floor toward the woman, cradling her in his arms as his back was wracked with sobs.  
  
        “Jenny,” he wailed. Ethan saw a flutter of motion behind her eyelids, and knew Rupert had too- he was suddenly still, not even breathing in the hopes of catching another sign of life.  
  
        The dark-haired hero’s face was morphing between his own attractive visage and Eyghon’s ghastly appearance, an inner war clearly waging that Ethan didn’t understand. He didn’t need to.  
  
        “Rupert,” came a weak voice from the woman on the floor. Rupert let out a cry of relief as he couldn’t help but hold her close. He shifted back to give her some air, which allowed Ethan to see both of their expressions as their faces inched closer together, drawn toward each other even in this moment of crisis-turned-triumph. Ethan wasn’t surprised. How many times had he been in her place, magnetised toward Ripper after a night of successful magic or an unexpected but not unwelcome street fight? The tenderness in Rupert’s expression now betrayed deep affection for the woman, sending a bitter pang to Ethan’s stomach. Could it even be love?  
  
        He wasn’t staying to find out.   



	17. Chapter 17

        Giles absentmindedly thought back to that night as he wandered the hallway on his familiar route to the library. He and Jenny leaning on each other to get through the door, passing the spot where Ethan had been moments earlier. He assumed Ethan had disappeared, his favourite parlour trick, after Rupert was no longer on the edge of death. The thought made him remember the camaraderie they had once shared, causing a bittersweet tension in his chest.

        Turning the corner, his heart skipped as he saw Jenny coming down the stairs.  
  
        “Uh, uh, Jenny!” he blurted. He wanted to run into her arms, hold her again, but restrained himself to walking at what he hoped was an appropriate pace.  
  
        She turned around. Jenny looked tired, dark circles under her eyes standing out against sallow skin.  
  
        “I- I tried calling, last night,” he stammered. “To s-see how you were.” He wanted to kick himself. Rupert couldn’t help but feel as if any comfort he’d built with her was now erased, leaving him a ridiculous, fumbling child, desperate for her approval.  
  
        “Yeah, I…” she sighed. “I left my phone off the hook. I seem to need a lot of sleep lately.”  
  
        Rupert’s eyebrows knit together in concern. “But you’re alright? Is, is there anything you need?”  
  
        She shrugged. “No, I’m fine. I mean, I’m not running around, wind in my hair, the-hills-are-alive-with-the-sound-of-music fine, but...I’m coping.”  
  
        He bit his lip. “I- I would like to help.”  
  
        “I know.”  
  
        “Perhaps we could, um, talk sometime?” Rupert felt a glimmer of hope in his chest that helped him continue. “Dinner, or, or a drink? When you’re feeling stronger.”

        “Sure, sometime.”  
  
        He couldn’t bear it anymore. He wanted to touch her, to comfort her, remind her that everything was back to normal and that they could go back to stolen kisses in doorways and flirtation among the bookshelves. _It’s all fine_ , he tried to tell himself. He reached out to her.  
  
       Jenny’s recoil was sudden, and it felt like someone had punched him in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. Taking another step back, she glanced over him, knowing that he’d noticed but unable to change her reaction.  
  
       She took a deep breath. “I better get to class.”  
  
        He stared after her, lowering his hand from where it was still raised toward her. A terrible realisation crashed down upon Rupert- Jenny was afraid of him. Such a short time ago she was reaching for him, and now she seemed to be pulling away.  
  
       “Hey,” came a soft voice from behind him. He turned, Buffy’s knowing expression both a comfort and a torment. He felt ashamed to have her see him be shot down by Jenny, but what was one more disappointment on top of everything else she’d learned about him?  
  
      She fell in step beside him as he continued to the library. “Is she okay?”  
  
      “I don’t think she’ll ever really forgive me,” Giles sighed, leaning against the wall of the hallway. “Maybe she shouldn’t.”  
  
      Buffy settled beside him on the wall and looked up with a sad smile. She knocked her shoulder into his, causing him to abort reaching for his glasses.  
  
       “Maybe you should.” 


	18. Chapter 18

        Here Ethan was again, doctoring his wounds in front of the motel room mirror. This seemed to be becoming something of a habit. He’d unwrapped the makeshift gauze from his arm and washed the wound with soap and water before muttering a healing spell. He watched new skin begin to form almost immediately, a dull pink layer now covering what had been a skinless patch of bloody tissue. It would do.  
  
         His adrenaline finally tapped, Ethan felt as if he could sleep for a full day. In the last few days he’d learned of the deaths of three old friends and very nearly witnessed another. That was of course not to mention his own attempts at escaping fate, which he supposed could have gone worse. If nothing else, he and Ripper were safe.  
  
        Ethan’s weeks in Sunnydale had had no shortage of interesting occurrences, though he couldn’t say they were exactly the best he could have hoped for. But really, what did he think was going to happen? He’d show up on Rupert’s doorstep and be invited in for tea? Between his Halloween trick and being forced to face Eyghon again, he had come to realise that Rupert’s priorities and allegiances were fully with the Slayer now. Nothing Ethan did would change that; in fact, he might have even strengthened their bond by forcing at least some of Rupert’s past out into the open. _Figures_ , he thought bitterly, wondering what the Jenny woman thought of the skeletons (or rather, demons) in dear Rupert’s closet.  
  
        He found himself transported back to a different time, when they’d known each other as well as they knew themselves. Ethan and Ripper would move as a unit, their synchronicity in fluid motions casting spells, their choreographed methods of causing fights they knew they could win. Their expert flirting left trails of people wanting them, but they always saved the payoff for each other. In their room, in an alleyway, and during one particularly memorable encounter, in an empty tube compartment, challenging themselves to finish before the train stopped to let people on.  
  
        Coming back to himself, he found himself wistfully yearning for Ripper again. Rupert as he was now still had repressed anger and power, let loose only when provoked. But Ripper was pure energy, ready to pounce on any opportunity regardless of legality, morality, or common sense. Ethan mused absentmindedly how he wished he could see Ripper again, as he had been, one more time. 


End file.
